To Walk The Streets Of Home
by FanWriterWV
Summary: Voyager's former crew members reflect on being home-and what they miss.


**TO WALK THE STREETS OF HOME**

Chakotay

The streets of Cardassia Prime were calm, but the faces of the civilians Chakotay and his security detail watched weren't. They'd lost their war, but many of them still believed in the militarism of the old Cardassia and a change in government hadn't changed that overnight.

Chakotay studied the ID pads that the Cardassians who worked in the new Federation Embassy gave him. Biometric readings confirmed the IDs and Chakotay waved them on through. It had become routine; the hours of standing and waiting. He still wasn't used to it-or to seeing a Cardassian face and not having to think of it as the face of an enemy. Chakotay understood that there were many former Marquis on Cardassia, resistance fighters who now served as the eyes and ears of Starfleet Intelligence during the occupation.

Chakotay had gone to his Homeworld first, which had rejoined the Federation. That was another thing he'd had to get used to-no more Demilitarized Zone, no more treaty, no more having to fear for his friends and family or worrying about a Cardassian attack. Those days were gone-peace had come. But keeping the peace wasn't easy, and neither was forgetting those times. He hoped he never would.

Janeway

The new apartment, not far from Starfleet Headquarters, wasn't like the old farmhouse. But it served her purposes well enough. With luck, she wouldn't have to stay there forever. "Being promoted is a double-edged sword," one of her former commanding officers had once told her, and Admiral Janeway was discovering how true that was.

What she really wanted was a command, but they would never give that to her now. She was too valuable, they told her. What they really meant was that she was too much of a symbol of Federation values being kept alive on the other side of the Galaxy. And she'd worked hard to preserve those values, to keep them alive as Captain…but others had taken up her banner now; with the Barzan Wormhole finally stabilized other Captains would be following in her footsteps into the Delta Quadrant.

She never said so in public-but sometimes, being a pioneer was lousy duty.

Tom Paris

"Should we take another pass sir?"

Tom blinked, and found himself looking at the star field. "Sorry, Lieutenant. My mind must have been wandering. Sure, why not? We still need the sensor data, right?"

"Yes, sir." The young Bajoran officer dutifully entered the course into the Runabout's computer. "So, what were you thinking about…if you don't mind my asking?"

"Nothing. Just some of the times when I was a pilot…in the Delta Quadrant."

The Lieutenant nodded. "I've studied those missions. The Delta Flyer was really an amazing feat of engineering…sir."

"Yeah, it was." And she was right-the Flyer had only been a modified shuttle, but it was his ship, and it had gotten him out of more than a few scrapes. Now it was in the Starfleet Museum, and he missed it. The Runabout was a good ship, but it just wasn't the same…

"Preparing for another pass over the nebula," the Bajoran said. "Beginning scans."

"Acknowledged." Lt. Commander Paris looked down at the expanse of gas and stellar remnants-but he didn't see a nebula. He saw an alien planet that no human had ever seen before, and for a minute he was back in the Delta Flyer, just him and the planet below, before reality returned.

He'd been a pilot once…

Tuvok

The music was meant to cancel out other distractions, not to be soothing, but that was how Tuvok interpreted the melody as the priests chanted. The heat of Vulcan should have been a welcoming retreat from his duties at Starfleet Intelligence, but when he heard the words of the priests he heard the voices of his former crew mates. He even expected to hear Neelix call him "Mr. Vulcan."

Neelix…and Kes. One of them a friend, the other his most promising student. As a Vulcan he had been taught to never say that he missed them. But he did.

B'Elanna Torres

Commander Torres picked at her food. Her mother watched her. "You used to love blood pie when you were little," she reminded her.

B'Elanna sighed. "I know, Mother. I was just…thinking."

"Are you worried about Tom? I know I used to worry about your father when he was on missions."

"No, Tom's only doing nebula surveys. It's not like he's fighting the Kazon or anything." B'Elanna finally took a bite of her food. "You're right-I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed it. I didn't get much of a chance to eat it on Voyager. The ship's replicators weren't that familiar with Klingon food."

"I know how difficult it was for you," her mother said.

"Only at first…and I wasn't exactly easy to get along with, either. But…they became family."

Her mother nodded. "Wherever you go, as long as you have family, you will persevere. It's what we Klingons do best when we are far from home." Her mother looked at her. "Do you miss it?"

"Gods, no," B'Elanna replied. "Well…maybe some of it. I learned more about engineering under Captain Janeway than I ever did in the Academy." B'Elanna became thoughtful. "It's strange, isn't it? We fought so hard to get home…why do I keep thinking about that ship so much?"

"It became your home…and they became your family," her mother reminded her. "You will always carry that with you."

Seven of Nine

The dinner had been prepared according to the instructions that she had received from Janeway. She was not used to cooking; in spite of the time she and Chakotay now spent together, the culinary arts were still something of a mystery to her. It was a traditional Bajoran meal that Chakotay had discovered from the Bajoran officers who were part of the Federation occupation forces on Cardassia Prime. She hoped it would be to his satisfaction when he returned from his normal duties.

Seven had yet to consider the Alpha Quadrant home as the others had. Most of her life had been spent as either a member of the Borg collective or Janeway's crew. Although she had learned to appreciate and prefer the latter, the undisciplined nature of humanoid society that she encountered here often sent her into retreat. It was when she was alone that she thought most often of her experiences in the Delta Quadrant. Not all of them had been pleasant. But they had been very instructive, and it was there that she had become part of the greater collective that was Janeway's.

She knew that this was home to Chakotay. But…it wasn't yet her home. Perhaps someday it would be.

The Doctor

"There we go-finished at last!" The last chapter of his new novel, a thriller set in the Delta Quadrant, was finally on paper. Of course the paper was holographic-like the ancient typewriter-what the computer had identified as an IBM Selectric-and it had only taken him a few minutes to write the whole thing. But for a computer program, that was a long time.

The Doctor looked around at his "Writer's Study," which he'd created on Jupiter Station's holodeck. A beep interrupted his contemplation. "Enter," he said.

Doctor Zimmerman came in. "I heard you were in here," he said. "I thought we could talk some more about Vidiian surgical techniques, if you're still interested."

"Of course. You're giving your lecture at Starfleet Academy next week, aren't you? I must have lost track of the time writing my last few novels."

"I just got a copy of your latest one. I couldn't help notice that it takes place in the Delta Quadrant-just like your last three books."

"Well, it as where most of my life experiences took place. A writer writes what he knows, as the maxim goes."

"I suppose you must miss it," Zimmerman said. "After all, it was your first real home."

The Doctor frowned. "'Miss,' isn't quite the word I'd use." The Doctor paused, then added: "But, still…I learned a great deal about humanoid behavior there…and made some truly important and lasting friendships, even with the annoying ones like Mr. Paris."

"All life is about learning," Zimmerman said. "You reminded me of that."

Yes, the Doctor thought-life was about learning. He was still learning, here in the Alpha Quadrant. This might have been where he was programmed-but unlike the others; it didn't really feel like home to him. That was Voyager-and he wasn't there anymore…

Harry Kim

Harry's flute playing was interrupted by his father's knock. "Harry? Come on, it's almost time for dinner. You don't want to miss out on your mother's chicken, do you?"

"I'll be there in a minute!" Harry chuckled. His parents hadn't changed. Still worrying over him, still watching over him. Harry put the flute away and paused to look out at the skyline of New Seoul. It hadn't changed all that much, he realized-but he had. He'd gone from an eager young ensign to an experienced officer, and all of it had been because of Captain Janeway and her ship. His ship, he reminded himself. That was where he'd learned how to command-an instinct that he had carried with him as an instructor at the Academy.

No one had been happier than he to return home. But there were times, when he would look up at the night sky while taking a stroll around the Academy grounds, and look up at the stars and see not the familiar constellations of Earth's sky, but the ones he'd seen in the Delta Quadrant. This might be home, he thought…but it was back there that he'd become a man.

THE END


End file.
